


Cannoli and Lipstick

by leiascinnamonrolls



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascinnamonrolls/pseuds/leiascinnamonrolls
Summary: Angie brings home some treats from her family dinner. Peggy is sentimental. And Angie is in love with her best friend.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	1. Cannoli

**Author's Note:**

> ... and they were roommates.

The Martinelli matriarch sure knew how to lay a spread, and leftovers were sometimes even better. Since she had moved out, Angie's mother always made sure to load her arms with as much food as possible whenever she came home for dinner. It had made her a favourite around the Griffith, as she had always shared her haul with the other girls. And now that Angie lived with Peggy, her mother had started sending even more.

"Ma sent me home with more food than we could eat in a week, Peg," Angie informed her roommate as she headed towards the kitchen, her arms full of containers, the Brit hot on her heels.

Peggy grinned widely as she moved to hold open the kitchen door for Angie, who could barely see above the containers piled high in her arms. "I'm very interested in seeing what your mother has given us this time."

Angie could practically hear her salivating over her Ma's cooking and shook her head fondly at her friend. "Hey English, wanna help me out instead of drooling over my Ma's pasta?" 

"Oh, right. Of course," Peggy said, jumping into action and pulling the top few containers off the pile and placing them on the counter before grabbing another.

Soon enough, they had everything laid out on the table. It amounted to six large containers, two smaller ones, and a thing of pasta sauce. 

"I think we're done... Wait a minute," Angie cried, opening her purse and pulling out four bread rolls. Peggy raised an eyebrow at her and Angie tossed a roll at her. "Shut it, English. When you have as large a family as I do, some smuggling must be done."

Peggy shrugged, opening and closing containers and putting them away, chewing on the bread roll. Then she froze, her mouth half-open in surprise and pleasure, the bread roll falling from her hand. "Oh, Angie. Are these what I think they are?"

"If you mean my Ma's cannoli, then yep. They're my Sicilian grandmother's recipe, passed down from generation to generation," She replied, affecting an Italian accent with a slight eye roll. 

"They look delectable," Peggy whispered, holding the box almost reverently.

“You okay there, Peg?” Angie asked, eyeing her friend warily. “You seem to be having a love affair with our cannoli.”

“I haven’t had cannoli since 1943,” Peggy told her, tearing her eyes away from the box and placing it gently on the counter. “Howard introduced me to them when we were in Italy. I formed a bit of an addiction, I’m afraid.”

“Well, go ahead and have one. That’s what they are here for after all, and my Ma would have a fit if she heard that you hadn’t had one in three years.” Angie shoved the box back towards Peggy with an insistent look in her eyes before she quoted, “‘Cannoli are a way of life, Angela.’”

Peggy regarded Angie with a strange look, but removed one from the box, being careful not to crush the shell. She took a delicate bite, really more of a nibble, but still managed to get the filling on her. 

“You’ve got a little filling right there,” Angie told her, wiping at her own lip with an amused look. 

Peggy blushed and tried to wipe it away, only to fail rather spectacularly. Angie shook her head fondly at her and took a step towards her. 

“Come here, English,” Angie said, her hand outstretched. “It’s right here.”

Angie’s thumb swiped over the corner of Peggy’s mouth, mindful of her lipstick, her hand resting under Peggy’s chin. Her fingers trailed along her jaw as she pulled away, lingering barely an inch from Peggy’s face. Peggy swallowed, her wide eyes following the movement intently, full of a sort of nervous bemusement.

Then the look in her eyes changed and Angie was pinned to the spot, unable to breathe. It was almost hungry, and definitely not for cannoli. Peggy's pupils were wide and her cheeks were flushed, and Angie's eyes dropped down to stare at the red of her lips. 

Angie's jaw clenched as she warred with herself, both wanting to close the incredibly small gap between them and being too scared to move. Then a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her of the last time something like this had happened. It hadn't ended well for Angie.

"Angie," Peggy said breathily, swaying slightly closer to her, pulling the waitress from her thoughts. "Thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome," Angie replied in a voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed hard and took a small step back, trying to distance herself both physically and emotionally from Peggy at the same time.

Peggy's expression quickly shifted to one of concern, and she placed a gentle hand on Angie's shoulder. Angie stiffened, and Peggy took her hand away like she had been burned. "Are you alright?"

Angie forced a smile as she stepped back even further, bumping into the counter. "I'm just peachy, English. I think I just need a bit of time to recover after dinner. Being around so many family members takes a lot out of ya, ya know?"

"Oh, of course. I understand," Peggy said, frowning at her. She obviously hadn't believed her.

"I'm just gonna head to bed," Angie told her, ignoring the fact that it was only nine. Nine was definitely a perfectly acceptable time for bed.

"Of course. Sleep well," Peggy said, rather robotically, turning away from her.

"Night, Peggy," Angie muttered, forcing herself to leave the room, forcing herself to not look back.

Peggy was the only real friend she had in the city. She was probably the only good thing in her life. Angie couldn't allow herself to mess that up because of her inappropriate feelings. 

But it had seemed like Peggy may have felt the same way. Was that possible? Peggy was Cap's girl. How could Angela Martinelli, a skinny girl from Brooklyn, ever compare to America's Golden Boy.

"Damn it," Angie cursed as she walked down the hall, away from the kitchen and away from Peggy. She had really screwed up back there, one way or the other.


	2. Lipstick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie's upset. Peggy's confused and should never apply lipstick while drinking peach schnapps for liquid courage.

When a tentative knock sounded an hour later, Angie was tempted to stay quiet, to pretend that she was asleep. She couldn’t face Peggy yet, and she certainly couldn’t face her in her pyjamas and fuzzy slippers. But she also couldn’t have left her outside her door. Not Peggy, never Peggy. As torn up as she felt, she could never do that to her.

Cinching her housecoat tightly around her waist, she opened the door to reveal her housemate standing there with a fresh coat of lipstick and a determined expression. Angie could smell the cigarette smoke that clung to Peggy. It wafted towards her as she opened the door, reminding her of the cigarettes she used to sneak and smoke behind her father’s garage back when she was fifteen. 

Angie had never imagined that Peggy smoked, something about it not quite seeming to match the rest of the picture she presented to the world. But since they had moved in together, she had learned that it was a habit Peggy had picked up during the War, something she resorted to during particularly tough and trying times. A friend of hers sent her fancy French cigarettes from overseas, keeping her supplied just in case she needed to take the edge off. Peggy always got a little cagey and maudlin whenever Angie had brought it up, which meant it was probably related to her time with the big man in red, white, and blue. Angie had learned not to ask. 

Peggy's mouth opened as she searched for words that had probably flown out of her head the moment Angie opened the door. Angie knew the feeling. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Peggy managed to ask after a moment. 

Angie's brow furrowed as she leaned onto the door frame. "What do you mean, Peg?"

"When you ran off like that, I assumed that I must have done something to offend you,” Peggy elaborated, shifting nervously from foot to foot, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her watch.

“No,” Angie insisted, lurching forward. She had never meant to make Peggy feel like that, like it had been her fault. It wasn’t her fault, it was never her fault. It was all Angie, Angie and her stupid emotions. “No, it’s not you. It’s me, honestly English.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the taller woman scoffed, shaking her head at Angie, “You didn’t do anything to upset me.”

“You say that, but I shouldn’t have let myself… Especially since I’ve been down this road before.” Angie worried her lip between her teeth, tearing suddenly watery eyes from Peggy’s. She couldn’t look at her, couldn’t let Peggy see her cry. Peggy was so strong and Angie, having four older brothers, wasn’t comfortable with anyone seeing her cry for real. 

“Angie, you did not do anything wrong,” Peggy said firmly, all nervousness gone. She stepped closer to Angie, leaving only the smallest gap between them. Her fingers moved to rest under Angie’s chin, gently tipping her face up, allowing their eyes to meet again. “I know you are frightened. I know that you are scared to get hurt. But it's alright, I promise. I won’t hurt you, I would never hurt you.”

Angie’s gasped quietly, her eyes widening as she absorbed those words. Could Peggy really be saying what she thought she was saying? 

Peggy's other hand slowly grabbed ahold of hers, her fingers entwining with Angie's as she took another step into Angie's personal space. Angie's breathing faltered as Peggy moved closer, the smell of her perfume, peach Schnapps, and cigarettes overwhelming her. Angie's shaking hand wrapped around Peggy's waist, barely touching the fabric of her blazer as she swallowed heavily. Her eyes did not leave Peggy's face, searching for any sign that it wasn't what she wanted.

“It’s okay, Angie,” Peggy assured her in a voice barely above a whisper, her lips hovering barely an inch from Angie's. Her breath ghosted across Angie’s face, causing her to shiver. Then Peggy was kissing her, and if Angie thought she couldn't breathe before, it had nothing on how she felt as Peggy's lips moved against hers.

It was everything Angie had ever wanted. The way their lips fit together so perfectly, their lipsticks mixing and noses brushing. The way Peggy's one hand held hers so tightly while the other slid around to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. 

As Peggy pulled back slightly, her hands not releasing their hold on her, as if she was scared Angie was going to run away again, Angie felt woozy. She felt like she could float away.

“Angie, are you alright?” Peggy asked her as Angie started to sway. 

“I’m fantastic, English,” Angie grinned dopily, her words slurring together as she leaned heavily on Peggy. 

She tried to look up at her, but her vision was blurry. She rubbed at her eyes with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Peggy’s and sighed. Her head was spinning as she was struggling to keep her eyes open, her limbs heavy and almost numb. Angie hadn’t felt like that since Christmas Eve back in ‘42, since they lost Frankie in North Africa.

“Angie, darling., what’s the matter- Oh, no.” Peggy blinked back into focus for a moment, and she looked horrified. Panic surged through Angie for a moment, then she felt nothing.

The last thing Angie saw before she blacked out was Peggy wiping frantically at her lips.

\---

Everything was too bright and too loud. Even the beating of her own heart was too much for her and what felt like a bad hangover. Throwing her arm over her eyes, she let out a groan as she tried to remember how she had ended up that way.

“Angie? Oh, thank heavens you’re alright. I was so worried," Peggy cried and Angie cringed.

“Can you keep it down, Peg? I’ve got a horrible headache,” Angie muttered, peeking at the brunette from under her arm. “What the hell happened to me?”

Peggy was silent for a minute, averting her eyes with a rather guilty expression. "I’m afraid that it’s my fault, darling. I may have accidentally applied the wrong lipstick,” Peggy blurted, blushing deeply.

“And how exactly does that result in this killer headache?”

“The lipstick contains a sleep-inducing compound. One that can have some nasty after-effects. Headaches, nausea, temporary amnesia." Peggy bit her lip, her lipstick free lip, and gave Angie an apologetic look.

“That's what I get for kissing you. You actually made me fall for you, literally. And of course you have a lipstick that knocks people out. I’m not even surprised,” Angie said, forcing herself to brave the bright lights and probable impending nausea and sit up.

Peggy moved to her side and helped her prop herself up against her headboard. Her hands gently smoothed Angie's hair out of her face as she pulled back, but not too far back, with a grin. “Perhaps that is because I’m an agent of a super secret agency dedicated to protecting the United States?”

“There is that. But while that kiss was fantastic, I’m pretty sure we can do better.” Angie cocked an eyebrow at Peggy, challenging her. "Much better."

“I’m inclined to agree," Peggy said, a smug smile on her lips as she leaned in close to Angie, but not close enough for Angie’s liking. 

“Shut up and kiss me, English," Angie demanded as she wrapped her hand in the collar of Peggy's blazer and tugged her to her, pressing their lips together firmly.


End file.
